The Truth Hurts
by sparkycircuit
Summary: Spoilers for S2 and the beginning of S3. Time passes and they have some sort of truce. He knows the truth of who and what she is, but she knows that he tried to kill her- they could kill each other, but neither makes a move.
1. The Truth Hurts

**THE TRUTH HURTS**

When she took the water from Merlin, it was the last thing she had expected. She gasps desperately for breath. Merlin has yet to look at her, and she reaches desperately for him, unwilling to believe that he could have done this to her. But when he turns, she knows with certainty that it was him. The guilt is there on his face- sweaty and horrible to behold. He kneels, and she grabs at him, desperate, afraid. As he holds her, he does not look at her, but she does not care.

By the time Morgeuse has come crashing through the door, she is only dimly aware of being moved, held by someone else. The strains of their conversation are choppy. She cannot hold too many words in her mind at once and continue to make sense of them. She can feel her grip on life slipping away, her magic grabbing desperately at the last straws of consciousness. She finally loses consciousness altogether, and she is certain she is dead.

So when she finally awakes again, she is shocked that it is not the aftereffects of the poison that hurt the most- it is the knowledge of the betrayal that goes along with that. For days, she can hardly believe that Merlin, Merlin who she trusted so implicitly, could have done such a thing. But as time passes, it becomes increasingly clear that that is exactly what happened. She lets herself be persuaded after, become increasingly angry, bitter, bitter about all of it.

She wonders later if she wasn't enchanted, that even if she was not enchanted, she wanted to be persuaded, wanted to be angry if only because the pain of the betrayal is too much. So later, when she lies to Merlin, it just amuses her and angers her that he has so much guilt, that his pain is so great. Perhaps it shouldn't, but it does. It is evidence of how she has changed. There is no kindness when she looks at him now, but there is no hate, either. There is dislike and some measure of regret, though the latter she will never admit to.

Time passes and they have some sort of truce. He knows the truth of who and what she is, but she knows that he tried to kill her- they could kill each other, but neither makes a move.

One day, he comes to her chambers. "Lady Morgana," he says, in that guarded tone he always uses when they are alone, as though he half expects her to kill her there. She always wonders why she does not.

"Merlin," she says in the clipped tone that only comes out when they are alone. It is awkward between them now, but it is awkward with everyone now. It hurts most with Gwen, but to mention it would mean admitting that something has changed, and she refuses to do that. It seems oddly dangerous.

"Arthur would like to see you in his chambers," he says, not moving from the doorway, staring at her with something akin to pity and betrayal. It saddens her to see it, but she pushes that away in favor of anger. How dare he feel betrayed- he was the one who killed her.

"Merlin," she says, walking towards her now. He does not move, but she sees his hand tighten on the door knob.

"Yes, m'lady?" he asks as she stands inches from his nose. She puts a hand on the door and he steps inside. She pushed it closed.

"Why?" she demands, angry now, grabbing him by the shirt and pushing him towards the center of her chambers. He stumbles there, but does not look at her. This is a game they have played multiple times, he has never answered. "Why?" she asks, and to her horror her voice cracks this time. he looks at her now, confused. He tries to turn away, but this time she refuses to let him; she grabs his sleeve and pulls him back around, so he has to look at her. "Why?" she asks again, and this time it is an accusation, low and cruel.

She drops his sleeve and he looks down at her before looking back at her face, searching it. There is a haunted look in his eyes, and it hits her like a slap in the face. It bothers her to see it, and she hates that fact. She would like to believe herself cold, removed, and she is not as removed as she thinks she is. "I'm sorry," he says, and his voice is small. "But Camelot-"

"Uther," she corrects, spitting the name out like a curse. He looks at her, blinks.

"Camelot," he continues, and she does not interrupt him again. "Camelot was dying. And you were the reason, I had to do something." He whispers it, the sorrow evident, but she does not want to accept it. She is disturbed to see how bothered by it is. He had not been looking at her with any indication that he felt such guilt, such doubt about his actions. She does not like it- it makes her choices more complicated, and that is something she does not want.

"So you poison a friend. How honorable," she spits bitterly, stepping back. She does not want to be so close- being so close means being harshly and bitterly aware of how much she is not the only one who has been hurt by this, and that is not a feeling she likes. She much prefers her ability to maintain the constant anger. She does not welcome the doubt, nor does she want it.

"I had to," he says, and she sees that she has wounded him with her words. It is not the first time she has done it, but this is the first time the guilt has gone so far.

"Merlin," she says softly, a shadow of the old Morgana. His face darkens at this; he did not expect it. Neither did she. She reaches a hand halfway between them before dropping it back to her side. The walls go back up, the anger returns. "Leave me. Tell Arthur I will be there momentarily," she says, walking back towards her windows. She stares at the wall as she waits for him to leave. She practically hear his hesitation. This could have been a moment for them, but it is not.

"Yes, m'lady," he says, his tone guarded once again. She hears his footfalls and listens as the door opens and closes. Once he's gone, she turns back towards the door and frowns. Listlessly, she sits on the edge of her bed. It is not supposed to be this hard to hate someone who tried to kill you.

The hard part is knowing that deep down, they were right.

* * *

_So I've been in a very Merlin-y mood of late. I may right some more, but I'd love some reviews if you'd be willing to give them. This is my first attempt at Morgana, let me know what you think! _


	2. The Anger of Betrayal

**THE ANGER OF BETRAYAL**

The anger had started innocently enough, maybe even had it's root in compassion. Uther had killed Gwen's father, and all of the sudden, all of the anger in the world seemed not only right, but justified. It was not in Gwen to be angry, it simply was not her way, but for Morgana, who had been born with a fire in her eyes, it was natural. She was not one to step aside. She was unused to not getting her way, and had no intention of becoming familiar with the idea.

The anger had seemed justified, in any case, and maybe it had been. Gwen was her friend, a very close friend, so much so that any assault on Gwen felt like an assault on her. But using her friend's loss as a justification for her own anger seemed worse and worse as time went on, and rather then readjusting her perception, she had simply let the anger grow unchecked.

It was disturbingly easy to go from anger to action. The opportunity to take some action presented itself in all too quick a time, and the anger had not matured yet, not grown ready to go beyond regret and a conscience. But that had evaporated months later, under the stress of a growing crisis of the magic in her veins and the sense that everyone around her was ready to bring some new hell down upon her head, not the least of which was Uther.

But being angry at Uther was convenient; he was the source of her trouble, therefore he was the one who provided the easiest target. Being angry at Merlin, on the other hand, was far less convenient. He was Arthur's servant, and a good one at that. He rarely failed those who depended on him, he was loyal, good, everything a good man should be. But he was also less of a clear character then she had thought he was. At first, she had thought that he was simply odd, what with all the questions that were out of place for a servant, the way he seemed wise beyond his years. Besides all of that, though, there had been a bond, for some reason. A bond beyond anything she could put into words. She, at times, still wondered why it had formed.

Despite this bond or perhaps because of it, things were fraying around the edges. While she felt acutely that she was drifting from everything she had once held dear, it had only drawn her attention to the contradictions Merlin seemed to have. he always seemed receptive and sympathetic to magic users, something she had once held dear, but now he seemed almost reticent to acknowledge any of it, at least around her. The man who had once said that she could trust him was not nearly as trustworthy. There was something he was holding back, she knew it, but at the time she had simply thought it to be something mundane.

Now, she wasn't so sure. How, after all, could he have known enough about the mechanics of the magic that Morguase had used to know that he had to take her life? How could he have known that she would be able to save her? She had thought, for a time, that maybe Merlin was really just that willing to gamble with her life- that seemed to be what Morguase thought, anyway, and she had the anger to validate the claim despite any arguments to the contrary, but to Morgana it was less clear.

She had been certain that Merlin was not one to play fast and loose with people's lives, and she was certain that, despite the tension between them, he would not have done it now. Which made her wonder why Merlin had been so understanding, why he had done any of it.

So she waited outside of he and Gaius' shared home, waited patiently until she was certain he was alone, and then she had taken that moment to come flying in like all the forces of hell. The door made almost no noises as she let herself in quietly, but there was an air around her- anger and power. Not the best combination. Merlin's eyes flicked over to her. He blinked, seemed to steel himself for something. Perhaps he thought she was here to kill him. Perhaps she was.

"Lady Morgana," he said, his tone guarded.

"Merlin," she shot back, a warning in her tone. She was not in the mood to be trifled with today. It was easier to be on the offensive when she knew what she wanted to know.

"Is there something I can get you? I don't think Gaius has prepared any more sleeping drafts-"

She held up a hand and he stopped mid sentence. He stayed where he was and she did not move. They stayed that way for a long time, and she wondered if time had slowed or if that was simply her perception. Dust swirled through the shafts of light leaking in through small windows, and she remembered that she had the upper hand here, if only because society had made it so. "There is something you're not telling me," she said softly, forcing Merlin to strain to make out her words in the silence. He said nothing. "You know what I'm referring to," she said, no louder, her tone still even, her demeanor not suggesting any less danger.

"You know what happened," he answered, not bothering to speak quietly. His eyes regarded her coldly, colder then she had ever seen them. She refused the urge to shift under his gaze. Let him show the weakness here. What did she have to fear?

"The whole truth, Merlin, not the half truth that has been concocted and changed a half dozen times," she shot back, the indignity of arguing with a servant outweighing anything else.

"Morgana," he says, and there is more sadness and resignation in his voice then should be allowed to come out of someone so young, "No," he says simply, and he brushes past her without a sound, leaving as quietly as she came.

She left a moment later, infuriated at his audacity. There was one thing to be said for Merlin: he certainly made anger easier.

* * *

_So I'm not so keen on this as I was the first part, so any input you have would be greatly appreciated. _

_Thank you!  
_


End file.
